


Always By Your Side

by dreamlittleyo



Series: Distress and Disarray [34]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Feelings, M/M, Mutual Pining, Peril, Rank Disparity, Romance, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 00:58:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18981928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamlittleyo/pseuds/dreamlittleyo
Summary: In which Washington is trapped, Hamilton is angry, and Doctor Peggy Schuyler is fed up with their nonsense.





	Always By Your Side

"Doctor Schuyler," Washington says, poorly concealing the frustration already winding tight in his chest, "I implore you to admit this is a cruel joke."

It isn't. He would know even without her answering look: an improbable amalgam of indignation and pity. Peggy Schuyler would never jest from her official position as chief medical officer. Even were this not the case, she's of neither a sadistic nor capricious temperament. She wouldn't toy with a crew member in such a way, and certainly not her commanding officer.

"I'm sorry, General." Her voice sounds tinny and strange through the force field, sluggish in a way that doesn't line up with the movements of her mouth. "Hopefully we won't need to keep you sequestered more than a couple of days. For what it's worth, your bio-readings are stable and already beginning to adapt toward a normal baseline. As long as the containment field keeps pace, you're in no danger."

There is, of course, the threat of boredom and the sense of being a prisoner aboard his own ship. But these are temporary trials. Boredom and immobility are not the true reasons Washington is angry at his predicament.

"You're sure I'll be out of here in a couple days?"

"I'm not sure of anything," Peggy counters archly. "Starfleet's medical database has no precedents for me to draw on. All I can tell you is that, until the tachyon particles clear your system, the containment field is necessary. You can move freely about the ship _after_ you re-sync with your surroundings."

Tachyon particles. Usually a disastrous complication—any disruption of the space-time continuum is bound to be dangerous—Washington should probably count himself lucky that this is the only fallout he is facing.

It's difficult to feel grateful in the face of Peggy's conspicuous refusal to provide answers.

Her evasion means that, despite her standing estimate, she has no true idea how long it will take his molecules to revert to normal. He could be trapped in here for days or weeks, which means there is no way to guess when he will be able to continue his promised conversation with Hamilton.

_This is bullshit_ , his mind conjures in a perfect recollection of Alexander's voice. But Washington does not speak the sentiment aloud. Doctor Schuyler is still peering closely at him, all professional concern, and Washington doesn't make a habit of cussing at his crew.

A moment later the door to the private medical room opens and Hamilton storms in snarling, "This is _bullshit_."

"Settle down, Colonel," Washington admonishes. Hamilton glares but quiets, apparently wary enough to avoid blatant insubordination in front of a witness.

Peggy raises eloquent eyebrows, shifting her attention from general to frantic interloper with an air of pained calm.

Hamilton glowers at her and demands, "What the hell does 'confined to sickbay for indefinite duration' mean?"

Now Peggy rolls her eyes and makes a gesture that looks suspiciously like praying to the heavens for patience. "It means exactly what it says. I can't estimate an accurate recovery period when I _have no data_. You clearly read my report, you know I'm only following protocol."

"But—"

" _Alexander_." Her tone brooks no nonsense, but it still seems a small miracle when Alexander subsides and allows her to continue. "I'm a doctor, not a wizard. I can't change the laws of temporal physics _or_ biology. The general is as safe as we can make him, and we'll be monitoring him constantly. In the meantime? There's nothing I can do _except my goddamn job_."

It's surreal to be the subject of discussion and yet feel so ignored. It is equally surreal to see Hamilton shrink in on himself at the conclusion of Peggy's rant. The boy looks chastened, and small, and utterly miserable.

Washington can certainly sympathize. He is miserable too.

Peggy's expression softens. "You shouldn't even be here, Alexander. That report is classified."

"What report?" Hamilton asks without missing a beat.

"Oh, for the love of— _Fine_. Stay. But if you touch any of my equipment, I'll release a swarm of Lemi'irian crown beetles into your quarters."

"You don't have a swarm of—"

" _Try me_." Peggy glares Hamilton down before turning once more to Washington. Her tone and expression turn amiable once more. "Sir. We'll be recording you at all times. If you need anything, just ask. No need for a comm signal." The information is unnecessary, except as a reminder: even once he and Hamilton are alone, they will not have true privacy. From the sharp glint in Hamilton's eyes, it's clear his boy also takes her meaning.

Then Doctor Schuyler is gone, and the small room feels abruptly quiet. For several seconds the only sounds are the low hum of the force field and the occasional beeps of the scanning equipment. Washington feels warm beneath the fierce heat of Hamilton's regard. He wants nothing more than to deactivate this barrier and hold his boy. Tuck him close, touch him, _kiss him_. Take a whole host of other liberties. He is impatient to explore their new understanding, so unceremoniously interrupted, and it galls him that he cannot do so.

The delay is even worse when they can't speak candidly.

"Are you off duty, Colonel?" he asks.

Hamilton scowls. "Do you really think I'd be here if I weren't?"

Washington quirks a single eyebrow. Hamilton's face flushes and his frown deepens. 

" _Yes_ , I'm off duty." A pause, a deeper blush, and Hamilton admits, "I know it's ridiculous, I just… Needed to be sure you're really okay."

"I'm really okay." Washington moves for the only chair on his side of the room, tugging it nearer the shimmering force field and dropping into it with a tired slouch. Proximity is not likely to help the strange sensory delay of sound and image through the field, but simply being closer to his boy feels better than the alternative. "I'm sorry I worried you."

Hamilton exhales a long, loud breath—not quite a sigh—and mutters, "You couldn't just complete a normal, uneventful away mission. Had to get yourself dosed with goddamn tachyon particles." A hard shake of the head and then Hamilton is hopping up to sit on the edge of a darkened console near the edge of the force field. "Do you think if I apologize for being a brat, Peggy will bring an extra chair? I'd rather not sit on the floor all damn evening."

Washington blinks in surprise. "You intend to stay?"

His boy looks affronted at the question. "Of course I intend to stay. _Someone_ has to keep you entertained, or you'll go stir crazy in here."

Washington laughs. He can't help it. The prospect of growing restless alone in this room is real enough, yes. But it will be even more maddening to have Alexander so close and not be able to touch him. 

"Look, if you don't want company—"

"Of course I want your company." Washington smiles, amused at the way Alexander is obviously struggling to maintain a sullen expression. "Thank you, my boy."

Hamilton shrugs. "Don't mention it."

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts: Wind, Conspicuous, Settle


End file.
